


Something New Entirely

by fauxframe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Camping, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, True Mates, Werewolf Mates, mostly werewolf mates at least
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-03 01:12:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17274281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauxframe/pseuds/fauxframe
Summary: Going back for his eighth year, Harry has an encounter that leaves him not quite a werewolf, but something new entirely. Turns out life had slightly more planned for him than previously expected, and unfortunately he can't simply murder such 'new entirely' desires. Suddenly, instead of fighting Voldemort, he's fighting the urge to whip his dick out and mark his territory on the Hogwarts stairs, and instead of battling Draco Malfoy, he's battling the compulsion to lean over and grab his crotch. And lick him. A lot. To top it off, in between the fact that The Boy Who Lived is now The Man Who's A Medical Curiosity and all the doctor-dodging that entails, he still has to take his goddamn NEWTs.(aka Harry gets attacked by not-quite-werewolves which leads to some not-quite-werewolf stuff, the discovery of his One True Mate, who likes table runners and floral arrangements and etiquette and doesn't like dirt, slobber, feelings, passion, or anything 'animalistic', chaos ensues.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There's a semi-bloody scene of animal attack in there, but I wasn't insanely explicit.

Honestly, going back for an eighth year at Hogwarts had sounded a lot better in theory than it was in practice.

Once you had complete independence, it was sort of hard to go back to having a curfew. And, in theory, Harry didn’t want any special treatment just because he had defeated Voldemort, but was it really fair that the man who was responsible enough to rough it for months while hunting down a crazy cult leader now had to be in the eighth year’s section by ten pm, and in his bedroom by midnight?

Harry didn’t think so. And he didn’t appreciate Hermione’s scolding that _at least the eighth years get their own common room_ and _at least we all get our own bedrooms_. The tiny number of them that had come back made it not worth it to try to cram them back into their respective houses. They truly did have more in common with one another.

And he kind of didn’t think it was fair that Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini were getting the same treatment as him. Sure, he had sat in front of the Wizengamot and waxed poetic about how Draco was surrounded by bad influences, clearly wracked with guilt through the whole process, and was “doomed as soon as he was born the Malfoy Heir,” to quote a particularly ridiculous line he had spouted at random during Draco’s trial. He had wanted them all to be acquitted, and he was happy when they were, and he wasn’t into using that kind of leverage against people, he didn’t want them to feel like they owed him. And sure, the war couldn’t have been won without him playing dumb when Harry was caught and taken to the manor. But the war really couldn’t have been won without Harry doing everything else. And they did owe him! And for god’s sake, Harry was just about done following stupid rules.

And unfortunately, Slytherins prospered under stupid rules. End of the day, when Harry had realized that was the crux of it all. Why do purebloods have so many dumbass rules? Because they’re all cunning, conniving Slytherins who come out of the womb knowing how to manipulate rules that make no sense to their advantage.

God, he can’t imagine pureblood home life being anything other than a chess game. And sure, Harry’s had been a fight-for-your-life game, but at least he knew who liked him and who didn’t.

Harry sighed and threw his book to the side, looking at the clock. Eleven after midnight. Full moon shining through the window. He stood up, locking the door, quickly arranging the robes and blankets under his covers, opening up the window and grabbing his broom. He floated out gently, sighing and stretching. Obviously the living-in-the-forest experience had been horrible. No contesting that. But sometimes he missed it. Wanted to sleep out under the stars again, hear crickets and leaves rather than other people and the groans of the castle settling.

Maybe he should go camping some weekend. He could ask McGonagall. He was sure there’d be a ridiculous, stupid, rule-filled process for it, but he wanted to sleep under the stars.

He flew around for a bit, checking each level before he lowered himself, making sure that nobody was peeking out, ready to rat on him. Eventually he got down to the edge of the Forbidden forest, walking in and holding his broom. He took deep lungfuls of the fir trees around him, wandering deeper in. Yeah, he’d have to ask to go camping sometime. Maybe Hermione or Ron would want to come with him. Hermione especially seemed to enjoy the outdoors, but he was betting Ron would enjoy it a lot too without the pressure of the whole horcrux-Voldemort-war business.

His mind drifted back to the Slytherins. They were doing so well back at school, huh? Harry’d like to see them camping. He barked out a laugh, picturing Pansy teetering on her heels, stilettos sinking into the ground. He thought of Blaise, who would obviously be disgusted by all the dirt and mud and cancel. And Draco…

Draco seemed like the type who would be no help at all. The type who would whine until the fire was roaring in front of him, then wrap a blanket around his shoulders and settle down by it and do nothing else. He could almost see Draco leaning back in a camping chair, flicking a strand of hair out of his eyes, leaning back to turn that pout on Harry, beg for him to come put more firewood on. He could almost see how Draco would open his frosty gray eyes wide, bat his eyelashes, only to narrow them and smirk when Harry did what he wanted. Honestly, it was a good thing Harry had no problem doing the work for two people, he just knew Draco would be nothing more than pretty decoration on a camping trip. He could see Draco being even more useless come morning, walking out of the tent with sleep-mussed hair, frowning at the lack of immediate tea. He could almost hear how Draco would whine, like how he whined when he didn’t like the fruit at breakfast, how he’d roll his eyes and say _Harry_ , long and high pitched.

He whipped around when he realized that wasn’t his imagination, that was really someone in the distance calling his name, and, hey, he was a lot further into the forest than he realized. He coughed, pushing images of Draco camping out of his head, making the immediate decision not to dwell on how focused on that daydream he had been when he had to worry about the fact that he was caught.

“I’m in here! I’m fine-“ He cut himself off, freezing up and turning around. Call it a sixth sense from literally 18 years of people wanting his head on a pike, but Harry knew when he was in danger, when someone was watching him. But when he turned around, there was just a wolf. An eerie wolf, sure, but not a werewolf. He lifted a leg, straddling his broom, deciding the best option was probably just flying back over the forest.

But before he could take off, another growl from behind him caught his attention. When he twisted to eye that wolf, a third leaped out and sunk its teeth into his leg, yanking him off his broom as he yelled and fought. His fingers scraped over fabric as he tried to get his wand out, kicking at the wolves. He made contact with the head of one, only for another to dive at his face. He brought his hands up to protect his face, dully registering the teeth sinking into his arms, the blood dripping down onto his face. He screamed out again, hearing the answering cry from whoever was looking for him before a wolf latched onto his side and he passed out unceremoniously.

* * *

 

The first thing he felt when he woke up was pain. He groaned loudly, trying to lift his arms only to find them restrained. He screwed up his face, struggling to open his eyes and jerking in surprise when he found Ron and Hermione’s faces inches from his own. “Madam Pomfrey!”

Harry didn’t know why she had to scream it, but whatever. He settled back and let the healer check him over, ignoring everyone’s chiding and asking him what he had been thinking.

“Why am I tied up?”

Professor McGonagall stepped over, leaning over the edge of his bed. “Mr. Potter, what do you remember?”

“I snuck out – sorry about that – and went to the forest, and got attacked by a pack of wolves, of all things. Not even the werewolves that live there, just regular ones.”

Her robes moved as she prepared herself. “There are no werewolves in the Forbidden Forest. And those were not regular wolves. When two werewolves, on the full moon, in their wolf form, mate – very interesting animals are born.” She paused, then nodded to Hermione, who had been actively fighting the urge to interrupt.

“Harry, it’s so interesting. They’re wolves, they never transform to humans, but they’re especially intelligent, very human-like-“

“Okay, well, they tried to eat me, so you can lay off the praise.” Harry interrupted, grinning when Ron snorted.

“Harry. Anyway, it’s so rare that werewolves are interested in anything other than… well, eating, that this almost never happens. But it did, and Dumbledore let them live in the forest so they could be studied by the teachers here.”

“The problem is,” McGonagall picked up again, “we have no idea how their attack would compare to an ordinary wolf, a werewolf, anything.”

“… I might be a werewolf.” He said slowly.

“We won’t know for another month.” She said gently. “But we’ll take care of you, when that month comes.”

Harry nodded, sitting back. He couldn’t help it – he thought of Lupin. Becoming a werewolf would be… awful, but manageable. One crappy week a month. Hell, Hermione had been managing that since second year.

He accepted the Headmistress’ offer to call in specialists, researchers, and let her unbind his hands now that they were sure he wasn’t going to wake up feral. He let Hermione check his wounds, and then he let Pomfrey check his wounds for real. She tallied them up in a brusque voice that left no room for vanity – “You’ll have a scar along your right calf, scars up and down the ulnar side of your forearms, and severe scarring across the left side of your side and hip. You likely won’t suffer any long term muscle weakness after the week is out, but I assume you’re benched from Quidditch until we can fully understand any changes that may have taken place.” She paused and lowered the chart, cracking him a smile. “I strongly suspect the only change you’ll experience is a fondness for meat, Mr. Potter. I’ve treated quite a few werewolf attacks, and this was different.”

He smiled back and watched as she waved her wand and the vitals hovering above his body vanished.

“So… I can go?”

“You can go on the condition you dial back exercise, take it easy, and make sure someone comes with you when you go up or down stairs.”

Harry was already climbing out of bed, accepting the robes Ron gave him, letting Hermione put on his glasses, and heading into the small bathroom.

Time to face facts.

He spun around, checking his arms and body for scars. He expected to be horrified. He didn’t expect to kind of enjoy it. All his life he had experienced scars as marks of trauma, but suddenly they looked like some sort of badass resume of all the ass he’s kicked. He got dressed and headed out, flashing a smile at his friends and adjusting his badly smudged glasses.

They settled into step, heading into the crowds to get down to dinner. He smiled and slapped hands with everyone who stopped him on the way down to tease him about getting into trouble, ask him how he was doing. A smile spread over his face the more people he saw. He knew everyone here, he cared about everyone and they cared about him. Harry had never felt so at home. He threw open the doors to the Great Hall, striding in and breaking away from Ron and Hermione.

All of a sudden, it wasn’t just the warm feeling of family pushing at him to keep moving. There was a _heat_ pressing against his chest, sinking down, he was practically hyperventilating to follow the smell until the source of the smell was so close, _so close-_ and when he slammed his shoulder into Blaise Zabini’s back and tossed him onto the table in order to drag Draco Malfoy off the bench and to the floor, he didn’t feel bad at all.

He melted down dreamily, plastering every inch of skin together, ripping off his glasses to bury his nose in the milky white skin of his mate’s neck, soft and unblemished unlike Harry’s scarred tan, and smelling oh so good. He rolled his hips against him repeatedly, enjoying the wiggling body against his crotch and the heady scent in his nose.

Really, the only bad thing about the situation was that Draco was screaming bloody murder. He growled at him, a little playful rumble meant to remind him who was in charge. Evidently, Draco didn’t see it that way, as his scream went up an octave and suddenly Harry was being dragged off him, snarling and snapping, and he saw Pansy grab her full water goblet and fling it at him, and everyone was staring at him like he’d lost his mind. He shook his head, sending water flying over the group holding him back.

Unfortunately, after the war, seeing a group of Slytherins grab Harry Potter and throw water at him had some different reactions, and a group of passing Gryffindor’s leapt up and pointed their wands, demanding the burly Slytherins release him as Draco demanded they _didn’t do that, under any circumstances_.

Hermione burst into the middle, holding up her hands and looking from group to group. “Just- hold onto him.” She instructed, waving their housemates down as Pansy pulled Draco to his feet, trembling and looking like he couldn’t have been more shocked if Harry stripped nude and started singing Celestina Warbeck. “I know how this looks, but I promise there’s a very reasonable explanation.” She paused. “… Which Harry will tell you!”

Harry blinked, dripping wet and still staring at Draco. Damn, he was going to think Harry had lost his mind. He had to come up with something good. “I’m sick.”

“He’s sick!” Hermione repeated, coming over to take his arm and try to drag him away. “I’m going to take him to the hospital wing now.” The Slytherins reluctantly released him, and Hermione dug her nails into his arm, Ron grabbing the other one as they marched him right back to Madam Pomfrey.

She stopped when they walked in, sighing and rubbing her forehead. “How?”

“He didn’t get hurt, he-“ She exchanged a look with them, ignored Harry’s pointed glare (what he thought was the universal signal for _don’t rat me out_ ), and ratted him out. “He jumped Draco Malfoy and started humping him. Like a dog.”

Madam Pomfrey was a professional, and her eyes barely widened before she nodded knowingly. “Okay. And- did anything prompt that, Harry?”

“Uh. Well, it was just the way he… smelled?”

“The way he smelled?” She prompted, already scribbling away in her notebook. “Was it a good smell, or-“

“Yes.” He nodded, closing his eyes. Now that he had been so close, he could almost pick it out – when Draco had walked outside sometime back, when he had visited the hospital wing a bit ago. “It was a _good smell_.”

“Was it erotic-“

“Woah!” Ron shouted, flushing to his hair. “We don’t have to be here for this, do we?”

“Ron, if Harry has an erotic reaction to Draco Malfoy’s smell, then we are going to support him.” Hermione insisted, looking like she concentrating very hard on keeping her lunch down.

“Honestly, it really wasn’t, until he started moving.”

“Moving?” She asked in confusion.

“By ‘moving’, Harry means ‘trying to get away’.” Hermione said.

“Yeah. Then I started humping him.” He still had his eyes closed, leaning toward the bed. Had Draco been in the hospital wing lately? Harry didn’t remember hearing about it, but it smelled like him. Recent, too. “Is Draco sick?”

“Excuse me?”

“The bed smells like him.” He stuck his nose in it, but he couldn’t smell anything sour like some of the other beds.

“I can’t disclose that information- Harry, stop sniffing the beds.” She said firmly as he resurfaced. “Tell me more about the reaction.”

“It was just… nice. Like Amortentia, the same reaction. But… more extreme. I just wanted to smell it. I still want to smell it.”

Hermione frowned, stepping closer. “Madam Pomfrey, when’s the last time Draco was in here?”

“If he can smell him, his sense of smell has enhanced. Harry, would you mind-“ When Pomfrey stood up, she had a glint in her eye, and Harry knew he was in for a rough year.

For the next two hours, Harry was poked and prodded and examined. Dinner was sent up, and Harry identified each item of food while Ron was still coming up the stairs. They discovered he could hear whispering out the door and halfway down the hall. His eyesight had improved past the point of needing glasses and past what humans could do. When Hermione and Ron went to fetch clothing from their friends for testing, Harry could tell who they had taken it from before they even entered the room. She tested his reflexes, made him run on a section of floor that would slide like a treadmill, and when she finally let him go to bed, he was so exhausted he fell asleep without demanding an explanation.

The next morning, he woke up to find that fourteen of the Wizarding World’s foremost experts on lycanthropy had arrived to study him. He was introduced to werewolves, who confirmed they didn’t experience any elevated senses when they weren’t transformed, and gleefully informed him they had never humped anyone, ever.

When a woman in crisp formal robes heard about what the experts were referring to as “the humping incident”, she immediately dragged the Headmistress and Pomfrey into a private room with Harry. “Mr. Potter? Could you describe the smell of the humping target-“

“Okay, we don’t need to say the h-word so much.” He said immediately, cheeks flushed as he rubbed his forehead. He was a lot easier embarrassed when he couldn’t stick his nose into the pillow Draco had used at night and focus on the smell of sugar and flowers and wood and tart. Pomfrey had, unfortunately, caught him sniffing the sheets one too many times and changed them. “It was- I felt warm, and happy, and I just wanted to- I just wanted to hold him, I swear, and then he just moved against me. And I growled at him.”

“Why did you growl? Were you angry?”

“No, I just- did it, I guess, to-“ He shifted uncomfortably. “To show him I was in charge?”

She smiled. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Mr. Potter. What do you feel about him now?”

He paused and considered, but even before the mauling Harry had felt his feelings strongly and worn them on his sleeve, and it was only worse now. “I want him here. Or I want to be where he is. I’m worried about him.”

She clasped her hands to her heart. “Mr. Potter, it seems you’ve inherited several lupine traits – enhanced senses, speed, reflexes, and certain lupine instincts.”

“Great. So what am I?”

“Oh, Mr. Potter, this is the first case of its kind. You are something new entirely.” She smiled. “But I can explain the humping incident.”

“Good, because I don’t get it.”

“That boy is your True Mate.”

Harry had the immediate feeling that he was fucked this year. Abruptly any anxiety vanished, replaced with the comforting knowledge that his life was still a shitshow. "What's that?" He sighed out, fully prepared for the worst.

“It’s been found in magically enhanced lupine species that frequently there will be one wolf above all that wolf chooses to mate with. Mates are selected by scent, and if they are separated before they can mate, both will travel and abstain from mating until they find their True Mate.” She obviously considered this romantic. Harry didn’t quite see it.

“Uh, that’s not possible. He hates me. I hate him.”

“No you don’t.

“Yes, I do.”

She frowned, not really appreciating the backsass. “I assure you, you don’t. Your… inner wolf, let’s say-“

“Let’s not!”

“Let’s!” She repeated happily, ignoring the truly horrified look on Harry’s face. “Your inner wolf has found that boy to be your True Mate. Not to worry, True Mates are always attracted to each other, I’m sure he returns your feelings-“

“He doesn’t. And neither do I. Let’s say I ignore it, what’s the worst that could happen?”

She shrugged. “It’s likely you won’t be able to. Particularly as the moon grows.”

“What?” He demanded. “I won’t be able to?”

“Well, did you decide to jump on him and begin humping him, or did it just happen?”

The lady makes a good fucking point, Harry thought. “… Say I leave Hogwarts. What then?”

“I would have concerns about sleep apparition. And the inevitable catastrophic splinch. If your conscious refuses to be near him, your unconscious will become more desperate to do so.” She was beginning to frown as the severity of the situation sunk in. “I need to be clear, this is mandatory. And I can’t imagine why he’d hate you of all people-“

“He used to be a Death Eater, Elliana.” The Headmistress spoke up frostily, noticing the widening of Elliana the Mate Expert’s eyes. “Harry-“

“Can you send in Ron and Hermione? Can I just talk to them for a second?” He settled back as the grown women left, waiting for his friends to come back in. He didn’t know why, but he wanted them closer now too. So much so that he grabbed them and hugged them tightly as soon as they got in.

Considering Hermione looked like she feared for Harry’s life, Harry probably should’ve seen it coming when, after he explained his predicament, Hermione stood up and announced that, “it’s not a problem, honestly, we defeated Voldemort. How hard can seducing one little Malfoy be?”

“You know, I don’t love that we’re phrasing it ‘we’re seducing Malfoy’.” Ron said thoughtfully. “Maybe we can say we’re helping? Assisting?”

Hermione was already digging out a notebook. “Alright. We need a game plan. Let’s focus on shifting his perception of you- do you think you should apologize for hum-“

“Don’t say the h-word!” He snapped. “… Yes, I think I should.”

“Okay. Either he’s going to want to cut his own humiliation short and pretend he never got humped on the floor of the great hall, or he’s going to want to drag your humiliation out by making sure everyone knows you humped him in the great hall. You should be prepared to be extremely subtle and apologetic.”

“Okay. Step one, convince Draco Malfoy I’m not actively crazy.”

“Step two, convince him you didn’t ruin his life!” Ron said cheerily, standing and helping him up.

Two hours later found Hermione and Ron casually sitting in the hall, Hermione taking notes, eyes on Draco as he chatted with another eighth year Slytherin. She laughed and reached up, stroking his shoulder. Hermione saw as Harry caught sight of that, a dark look falling over his features. He stormed toward them, practically colliding with the girl as he slid between them, very much in Draco’s personal space. The blonde took a step back in surprise, only for Harry to grab his arm right where she had stroked it, a bright smile on Harry’s face as he rubbed Draco’s arm. “Hey, Draco!”

Draco, meanwhile, was still pretty sure Harry had lost his fucking mind. His mouth dropped open slightly, looking up as Calliope retreated before making eye contact with Harry and shivering. He glanced to the side primly, ignoring how his cheeks heated. The memory of Harry Potter throwing him to the floor and rutting against him like some kind of wild animal was fresh in his mind, and he did not approve in the slightest.

It was completely unheard of behavior outside of the lurid romance novels Draco had secretly purchased and kept hidden in the bottom of his trunk, charmed to look like books on potions, and Draco did not want to be thinking about Harry Potter and his treasured novels in the same area at all. He already had a hard enough time making sure Potter stayed out of his more improper dreams.

“Here to knock me over again?” He snapped, glancing around the hallway for another Slytherin – _any Slytherin_ – to save him, witness this, be ready to sound the alarm, something.

“No, I want to apologize for that.” He flashed him that smile, brighter than any lumos, and Draco pointedly looked away. “I apparently had a bad reaction to something Pomfrey gave me, and was tripping balls. I don’t even remember it, but I get it must’ve been pretty terrifying for you. I didn’t mean to scare you, I would never try to scare you, and I appreciate that you didn’t even hex me. Would’ve been justified.”

“Oh.” Harry watched as pureblood politeness kicked in, and Draco accepted the apology. “Don’t think on it another moment. I wasn’t scared, you don’t scare me.” Partially true, that. He really hadn’t been scared when it happened, just startled and alarmed. But he couldn’t deny that, somewhere deep down, he was truly frightened of the Boy Who Lived.

“I’m glad to hear that. Did I bruise you?”

Draco flushed harshly. He bruised like a fucking peach, not only was there a bruise on his rear from the initial tackle, there were three under his high collar where Potter had sucked on his neck. None of which he would be discussing. “Was there something you wanted, Potter?”

Harry frowned slightly, rubbing his arm more insistently before Draco squirmed out of his grip. “Just- let me know how I can make it up to you, okay? Anything you need me for, just ask.”

“…” Draco opened his mouth to brush it off, but realized that having Harry Potter owe him a favor might come in handy. And didn’t he deserve it? He got mauled in front of everyone! He got hard in front of Pansy, he deserves Potter kissing his feet. “I will. Thank you, Harry.”

At Harry’s excited grin, Draco bailed, visibly weirded out. The fuck was up with that kid? Harry stared at his back until he rounded the corner, and turned to tug Hermione and Ron into an empty classroom. “He said my name! Did you hear that?”

“Oh, we heard!” Ron said excitedly, slapping Harry’s arm. “Then you went and fondled him like a freak, and he ran off. Operation Convince-Malfoy-Harry-Is-Sane was _not_ a success.”

Harry’s face fell, and he turned back, taking a deep inhale. “I guess he does smell a little uncomfortable.”

Hermione was busily analyzing her notes. “Harry, he blushed when you first touched him, and then again when you asked if you bruised him. I think you were a little too personal. Maybe we should avoid touching.”

“I couldn’t stop. I just wanted to smell him again.” Harry said honestly before Hermione’s eyes lit up.

“I have an idea. Let’s steal some shit.” She said instantly, snapping the notebook shut. “Harry can get his fix, and then behave reasonably next time. I’m an eighth year prefect, I can access his room, let’s just take something.”

Unable to think of a good enough reason not to, they headed back to the eighth year’s common room, Ron standing guard while Hermione waved her wand and then opened Draco’s door. She and Harry ducked inside immediately.

Harry froze, taking in a deep breath before flopping facefirst onto Draco’s bed, ignoring Hermione’s reprimands as he dragged a pillow down, buried his face in it, and took a deep breath. “I want this.”

“As if he wouldn’t notice a pillow missing?!” She demanded, whacking the back of his thigh and ignoring his growl. “He’s organized. He might notice anything missing.”

Harry sat bolt upright. “I’m not leaving this room without something, Hermione.”

“… I’ve got it. Go get all the pillows from your room. We’ll see which one we can swap. It looks like most of these he brought from home, but some are from Hogwarts.”

“I don’t want to leave.” Harry’s voice came from where it was buried deep in the pillow, ignoring his best friend as she left the room. He rolled over, bringing the pillows with him, smushing several of them into his face at once. God, that scent. It almost evolved with each inhale, starting with a tart burst, easing into a sugary-flowery sweetness, and mellowing out into a woody scent. Better than Amortentia. Not as good as getting it straight from the source, but he’d take it. A few more deep inhales, and he got up to look around Draco’s room. It was neat, kept together. Didn’t reveal a lot. No pictures taped up to the walls, everything in its place. He stood up, bringing a pillow to sniff as he opened Draco’s armoire. Everything pressed and hung nicely. He headed to his desk after that, finding notebooks and marked up textbooks and even a journal.

Harry had the morals not to touch that, but not enough to stop sniffing the pillow. He opened his desk drawer, looking at the nicely organized school supplies before shutting it and diving back into the bed when Hermione got back.

“Okay.” Moments later, she had sorted out the pillows they could swap, and Harry was heading back to his own bedroom with four fluffy prizes clutched to his chest. He climbed on his bed proudly, setting up his new pillows and rolling around in them.

He suddenly felt bad for giving Elliana the Mate Expert so much shit. Here he was, stealing fucking pillows to get his fix.

He really was going to have to seduce Draco Malfoy, wasn’t he?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the fucking games begin.

Draco settled down in his room without a problem. He was used to slight changes in his living space while he was out – like Draco Malfoy had ever changed his own sheets. To be frank, someone could’ve ransacked his room and he’d assume the elves were rebelling. He assumed the elves had been in, fucked up his pillow arrangement because they were idiots, and didn’t think on it further.

Besides, he was busy trying to figure out what the hell Harry Potter was smoking. For one thing, that apology had been way too much. Harry had intense green eyes already, and when they stared at him like that it was distracting, and rude, and impolite. Potter should just keep his eyes to himself if he was going to make Draco feel like he was naked with a single look. It was inappropriate. Fucking new money trash.

Draco pulled off his cloak, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it down to look at his neck again. He gasped loudly, fingers going up to brush against the bruises. Draco had never, ever, _ever_ received a hicky in his life, and the red marks that had been present last night when he went to bed had worsened over the night of sleep and day of classes into violet bruises on his milky skin. He looked like someone had tried to kill him. It looked like Potter had throttled him.

Well, since he was thinking of Potter… Draco glanced around and stood up. He slowly locked the door and drew the curtains over the window. He knew perfectly well that this wasn’t the manor, there was no risk of his parents bursting in, and any teachers would certainly knock first. But there was still a forbidden thrill that made his heart pound as he slowly pulled out the most well-loved book from the depths of his armoire, pulled the curtains tightly around his bed, and wiggled his pants off. He checked the curtains a final time, got under the blankets, tried to ignore his blush, and started reading.

Normally the story of an earnest and passionate light wizard rescuing a younger dark wizard from a loveless arranged marriage and bringing him into the light with the power of sex and love drew Draco in immediately. But something about reading words on a page fell flat in comparison to the memory of the feeling of Harry Potter pressing down on him, shoving his thigh between Draco’s legs, feeling Harry’s teeth on his neck and his hard cock against Draco’s hip. If Draco pushed his head back into the pillow, he could almost _smell_ Harry’s scent, and that was it for him.

He abandoned the book to the side, yanked the covers up, and yanked a pillow down to rub up against it. Something spicy, something musky and masculine, something sweet – he really could remember the scent, just like Harry was pressed up against him again. He rolled his hips, rubbing against the pillow helplessly as he imagined grinding on Harry, hearing that growl again. That growl has been animalistic and passionate and everything Draco wasn’t even supposed to know about. His parents giving him the talk, his cousin whispering about his wedding night, they all sounded like nothing in comparison to what he read about in his books.

And they sounded like less than nothing in comparison to the forty seconds he had spent under Harry Potter.

Draco clutched the pillow tightly, shoving it down into his crotch to rub against, and threw himself into a fantasy. _God_ , Harry had been like a man possessed. When he saw Potter storming toward him during dinner, he had immediately worried he was about to get hurt. He had slid back, watching as Blaise stood up in preparation to defend him. He had the vacant thought that Blaise was going to need some ego-stroking for that later, and he prepared for the fight before Harry dropped his shoulder and tossed Blaise onto the table.

There wasn’t time to recover from the shock of arousal before Harry was grabbing him and dragging him to the floor. He closed his eyes, twisted his face away and started shrieking, fully expecting nobody to come to his aid. Who the hell would spite the savior to save the Slytherin? Pansy, maybe, but she was no match for Harry. Draco wasn’t expecting to leave dinner without some bloodshed.

And then Harry Potter, Order of Merlin, First Class, started licking his neck. He moaned at the memory, clapping a hand over his mouth and whimpering.

Draco Malfoy had been raised up to be the Malfoy Heir. His parents had mentioned sex to him exactly once, to the effect of “thrust your hips and think of your bloodline”. The heated way Harry ground against his hip, the spit and love bites Harry left across his neck, those had all been completely out of the realm of his knowledge.

He had felt his cheeks heating up, furiously shoving at the bigger Gryffindor and screaming like he was being murdered. Always the stronger one, Harry hadn’t budged an inch, just growling at him and jamming his leg between Draco’s thighs, spreading them easily. Draco had always been slender and willowy, but Harry seemed almost broader than he had two days ago, and he had always been tall. He remembered how it had felt, being overpowered and feeling the noticeable bulge in Harry’s uniform pants up against him.

Of course, in reality, that’s when some other Slytherins ripped Harry off him, leaving Draco to scramble to drag his robes over his groin. In Draco’s fantasy, things went a little further. He imagined Harry fucking up against him, more growling, all the dirty things he would whisper – he was sure Harry would talk, he was so snarky during classes. Draco grabbed the pillow, pulling it up over his mouth to muffle the whining. A few more heated bucks up against the pillow, a few more breaths in, picturing Harry’s scent, all the marks he would leave across Draco, how it would feel to leave a few of his own, and Draco shoved the pillow into his face and came in his underwear.

Draco slowly relaxed, pillows falling to the side and legs falling open. He waited for the usual rush of shame that came after touching himself, but he was so focused on that faint spicy, musky smell, and he sleepily vanished the mess before hunkering down for a nap on his luxurious pile of pillows.

Hours later, he woke up for dinner with Pansy banging on his door, and hurriedly buttoned up his collar to hide the bruises before allowing her in, and collecting Blaise to head down to dinner with them. Draco was admittedly less than focused, still picturing dinner the night before, and the transformative experience he had on the floor next to the Slytherin table. Hm. He hoped Harry wasn’t planning on having another reaction like that again.

“Oooh!” Pansy spotted the bundle of red roses and fragrant gardenias Harry was clutching first, halting in his path and smiling as Harry, Hermione, and Ron paused in front of them. Draco squeezed her arm and leaned in, examining the bouquet.

“Roses, dark red, gardenias…” He mused, glancing and Pansy and raising his eyebrows. At his look, she let out a shocked gasp and started cackling.

“Looks like Potter’s asking some girl for something very special…” Blaise had a small smirk on his face, and Harry had the distinct feeling they were getting something he wasn’t. There was no time to worry about that, however, since Blaise had his hand on Draco’s lower back.

“Uh, not a girl.” He said immediately, focused on getting a good whiff of Draco’s scent over the flowers.

“That so?” Draco said immediately, looking like he was mentally organizing who to gossip to first. “Well who is it?” Harry opened his mouth, then paused, staring into his eyes. God. It’d be so much less embarrassing to just throw him to the floor and start trying to make out with him again. “Potter? Hello?” He blinked when Draco waved a slender hand in front of his face. “What are you, nervous? Because it’s a boy?”

“Not because it’s a boy.” He said slowly. “I’m… not sure he’s going to be happy about it.”

“Which one of your little fan club would be disappointed?” Draco asked. “Honestly, even if he had a problem with the fact that you clearly never figured out what a comb is and where they can be purchased, surely the social clout would be worth it.”

“He’s not exactly my biggest fan.” He watched Draco immediately start trying to suss out who in the world he could be taking about. “And I think there’s not going to be a lot of social clout, because people are going to be- concerned. Because he’s a Slytherin.”

Draco gasped, a smile spreading over his face, and for a single moment Harry was so sure that Draco had figured it out, and was delighted, and he was just about to hand him the roses when – “Oooh, gossip. Someone from my house? Who is it?”

“Uh..” Harry froze, watching as Blaise and Pansy leaned back slightly, exchanged glances behind Draco’s head, and turned to stare at Harry. They both, of course, looked like they were watching a trainwreck in slow motion.

“Hello, who is it? You might as well tell me, I’m going to find out just as soon as you ask someone from my house out.”

“I _am_ trying to tell you.” Lifting the roses with a deep breath, Harry took a step toward him.

Draco paused, glancing at Pansy’s face and back to Harry’s. “… Who?” He repeated, the truth starting to dawn on him.

Pansy released his arm, turning to face him fully. “Dray…”

“No.” He said immediately, shaking her off. “No, no, no no no…”

“Dray…” Harry repeated, testing out the new potential nickname.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god!” He spun around immediately, taking off back toward their bedrooms at top speed. This was not supposed to happen. Draco was supposed to have a very stilted and boring courtship, culminating in an emotionless arranged marriage where he touched himself to the memory of Harry Potter. There was absolutely no room for Harry Potter and all his feelings and emotions in Draco’s already complicated life. “No!” He shrieked, knocking into a couple coming up from the dungeons and tearing up the spiral staircase with a long, echoing scream.

“Well, that was certainly something. Potter shows up here to ask Draco to be his- what, his kept boy?” Blaise observed the situation, doing his level best to hide the fact that this was the funniest thing that he had ever witnessed.

“Of course not!” Harry snapped. “It wasn’t like that, I wanted to ask him out.”

“That’s not what the bouquet says.” Pansy hummed, taking it from Harry and checking it out. “Roses are too dark, shame instead of romance, and gardenia means secret love. Sounds a lot like-“ Harry growled at her, grabbing the flowers back.

“I just picked them because he smells like gardenias, and roses are romantic. Why do purebloods have so many stupid rules?” He demanded, tearing out a handful of the stems and throwing them to the floor. “Stupid rules about flowers-“ another handful “- and etiquette, and-“ he flung the bouquet to the ground and furiously stomped on it, growling. “Just- stupid, stupid rules!”

By now everyone in the great hall was watching Harry Potter smash a bunch of roses into a pulp on the stone underneath them. He had the vacant thought that he should probably be trying to behave, but he was just so furious. If things were how they should be, he’d just walk over, they’d fucking smell each other, and they’d be dating easy as anything, and Harry wouldn’t have to settle for smelling the stupid pillows and brushing against him in the hall!

He stopped, panting helplessly. Blaise stared at him. “Potter, please don’t mistake my utter bewilderment for concern, but – what the hell is going on with you? You seem… insane.” Chivalrous as always (aside from when there was real danger, of course, because he was a slimy coward who kept touching Draco), Blaise had subtly stepped in front of Pansy, who was currently wondering what it was about the great hall that made Harry Potter pull some crazy shit.

Ron stepped forward, a dawning realization on his face. “Hey, Parkinson, Zabini, can we borrow you two? We’ll tell you what’s going on. In private.”

“We will?” Hermione demanded in a hiss as Ron lead their little party out and into an empty classroom. “Ron, are you insane? That’s like telling your opponent your chess strategy-“

“Mione, for once we’re not trying to fight Malfoy, we’re actually trying to convince him to date Harry. So maybe we should get his best friends on our side first.”

“This ought to be a riot.” Pansy whispered up to Blaise, smiling when she saw his lips twitch. They sat down, looking up at the golden trio as they fretted. “Hello? We’re ready to hear you out with an open mind, whenever you’re all ready.”

Harry took a deep breath, sat down, and poured his heart out.

When he finished up, Pansy barely let him sit back before she started laughing hysterically. Zabini’s eyebrows had been raised since Harry had recounted his mauling, and he didn’t look inclined to lower them anytime soon.

“Let me get this straight. You got bit by weird not quite werewolves, and now you- you just have to marry Draco. Forgetting any plans his parents might have for his marriage, of course.”

“Draco’s parents have plans for his marriage?”

“You really know nothing about what purebloods do, huh?” Zabini cracked a smile, glancing over at Pansy.

“Potter, what the hell are you thinking? You’re going to court Draco Malfoy, are you? Huh? You have no money!” She shrieked before falling back into laughter.

“I have money.” He blinked. “If that’s the issue, I can provide for Draco.”

“Really? You have money? _Malfoy_ amounts of money? Money enough to provide for Draco in the fashion he’s accustomed to?”

He frowned. Her laughing was really grating on his ears, and he was getting more and more pissy at the insinuation he couldn’t take care of his mate. “Yes. There’s the stuff from my dad, there’s the royalties from the potions my grandfather invented, and there’s the Black inheritance-“ Finally, she had shut up.

“What Black inheritance?” Pansy asked, suddenly interested.

“Sirius Black was my godfather. He was the last living Black, and he left everything to me.”

“You’re the ragamuffin that got the Black Townhouse? Draco was just talking about that.” Pansy asked in a hushed voice, awed beyond belief.

“… Yeah. Sirius’ brother died before he did, and his mother left that and a fortune to him, and he left it all to me. And there’s the bounties for Voldemort-“ He frowned at their flinch. “I can take care of him!”

“This changes everything. We didn’t realize you were _rich_ , Potter.” Blaise sat up straight. “Of course, he still doesn’t actually like you. And you still aren’t- classy.”

“Are you using ‘classy’ as a way to get around saying ‘pureblood’?” Hermione asked, unimpressed.

“Of course not. We’re reformed completely. We don’t care about blood purity any more. Now it’s more about a certain… _je ne sais quoi_.” Pansy smiled brightly.

“Uh huh. Do you find that the presence of that correlates to one’s blood purity?”

“You know what? I do find that, funnily enough!”

“What?” Harry demanded. “What is it? Knowing stupid rules about what flowers mean? Saying courting instead of dating for no reason?”

“Not humping people at dinner.”

“That was a fluke! A one-time thing!”

“Not tearing up flowers at dinner. Dinner seems to be a bit of a soft spot for you.”

Harry groaned, scrubbing his hand down his face. “ _Please_ help me. I can’t keep going like this. He’s all I think about. I promise I would never hurt him, I’d rather die. I’m going to lose my mind, I just want to be near him and keep him safe!”

Blaise and Pansy glanced at each other. “This would be our good deed of the century. And you would owe us! Majorly!” She threatened. He nodded immediately. “… Alright. First off, you have to tell him about this mates nonsense. But for god’s sake, try to remove the… animalistic aspects of it. Draco hates anything involving people’s whiny gross feelings."

“How am I supposed to explain my animal instincts without talking about animal instincts?”

“Well, let’s practice! Give us the speech you would give him.” Pansy clapped and settled back.

“.. Okay. Uh, Draco. Over the weekend, I was attacked by the offspring of werewolves. And I got infected with a mutation, I’m not a werewolf, but I have urges-“

“No, don’t talk about those. Talk about the enhanced senses.” Blaise said immediately. “Talk yourself up. You don’t have urges beyond your control, this is just one more way that you’re the best, and of course the best deserves the best, right? You’re Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, Savior of the Wizarding World, you’re rich, and now you’re like a new and improved werewolf. With all that, you _deserve_ the smartest, prettiest, richest boy. You deserve Draco Malfoy. Draco isn’t going to date a charity case, you’re not going to be able to play on his pity for your in. He needs to feel like he’s getting the better end of the deal here. Try again.”

Harry nodded. It was funny. He hated bragging. But something about bragging for Draco, showing off for him, sounded nice. “Okay. Draco – over the weekend, I got in a tussle with some werewolf offspring, and now I’m sort of like an improved werewolf. I can see without my glasses, I’m faster, stronger – would’ve been nice to have when I had someone to fight, but whatever –“

“Don’t mention that!” Pansy snapped immediately. “Are you an idiot? Don’t ever mention that around Draco. Ever.”

“-I’m faster, stronger, and I have enhanced smells, and you smell…”

“Don’t make that face, you freak. Do you have to sound so emotional?” Blaise sounded positively disgusted.

“I’m faster, stronger, and have improved senses. Including smell. And you smell _right_. You’re clever, and handsome, and I want to ask you out.” At their expectant looks, he continued. “Uh, considering I’m wealthy enough to take care of you, and you mentioned social clout earlier…”

“… Well, it’s as good as it’s going to get.” Pansy nodded, standing up. “Hm. That was ridiculous. Let’s go back to our business and pretend this never happened.”

“You think he’ll say yes to that?”

“Oh, most certainly not. But he’ll say he’s considering it, and come back and tell us, and I’ll do the rest of the convincing for you.”

In the end, Pansy lined Draco up like the lamb for the slaughter. Fixed his hair, helped him pick out his best cloak, and marched him out to the greenhouses to listen to Harry’s pitch.

And Pansy was right. Harry handed over the calla lily Neville had picked out and set aside from him, Draco politely asked for a night to think it over, and Harry headed back to his room to huff his stolen pillows.

And Draco headed back to do something extremely slimy. He walked into Pansy’s room, lifted an eyebrow, and said, “exactly how much money does Potter have?”

They collected the records, settled into the library, and started calculating. Tracking Fleamont Potter’s inventions, the royalties that would be being deposited into Harry Potter’s vaults, where the Black family fortune ended up, split among dowries and bribes and inheritances, splitting and recollecting. They searched up bounties on Voldemort’s head, tallied those up, confirmed they had been paid, and tallied it up.

“Wow.”

That was _Malfoy_ money.

“Harry Potter can’t be away from you, can’t deny you anything, and has the money to keep you in blue boxes for the rest of your life.”

“What about my parents?”

“Owl your mother, but right now the Malfoys need reputation improvement more than anything else, and hitching their heir to Harry Potter would certainly show they turned around…” Pansy turned to him, lifting his chin. “We can keep it slow. Drag it out. Pull up every pureblood courting ritual in the book, get you two hitched. You’d never have to touch him before everything he owned was yours.”

Draco didn’t know how to tell her that sometimes he wanted to touch Harry Potter more than he wanted to breathe. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’m going to allow Harry Potter to court me, allow him to propose to me, accept the engagement, and then marry him.” He whispered. Pansy pulled his head in, kissing his forehead.

“You’re okay. You knew you’d have an arranged marriage. This is no different.”

That much was true. Draco had known since birth his marriage was not going to be one he picked without influence.

He hadn’t expected it to be to someone who thrilled him to his core, though. He hadn’t expected it to be with someone who made him feel like he was going to go weak at the knees or lightheaded.

And as emotionless as Harry had played when he asked Draco out, there had been a feral sheen behind his eyes, and Draco had glanced around the empty greenhouse and known that if he had pulled off his cloak and pulled Harry in, Harry would’ve devoured him in seconds. As comforting as his monotone voice had been, all bets were off when he passed over that lily and their fingers had brushed, and Harry’s other hand had snapped up to grip his forearm tightly, pulling his hand up to kiss it and smell it.

“You’ll be my chaperone, right?” He asked breathlessly, pulling her into a hug as she nodded.

“He won’t lay a single finger on you until he’s gotten engaged to you.” Pansy promised, and Draco nodded, knowing full well they weren’t going to get to Christmas break before Harry lost it.

He had a ring of hickies around his neck to prove it.

“I never would’ve thought him and me…”

“Me neither. I mean, I thought he couldn’t stand you. Do you think he said that stuff at your trial because…”

Draco yanked back abruptly, cold fury sharpening his handle on the situation. “He did it so I would owe him! He planned this!”

“… I don’t actually think he’s Slytherin enough to have planned that, I just think it’s possible his cock was influencing his brain.”

“I don’t buy that for a second. He did it so I’d feel obligated to give him a chance- Pansy, we’re going to pull out every ridiculous rule in the book. We’re going to take him for everything he’s got. Ask your mum every rule she’s ever heard about courting, and I’ll ask mine.” Draco sat down and started scribbling. Pansy rolled her eyes and did the same. If Draco needed this, then whatever. Wasn’t like Pansy gave a shit about the Savior of the Wizarding World getting blue balls.

* * *

The next morning, Pansy slipped into his room, told him some of the particularly archaic rules her mother remembered, walked him out, and smirked as Draco stood in front of Harry and informed him that he was accepting his offer of courting.

And it was almost worth suffering through the smug, delighted look in Harry’s eyes to see how they widened when Harry leaned in for a kiss and a sniff and Pansy whacked him with a sheaf of her papers and shrieked, “leave room for Jesus!”

“What the hell, Parkinson?” He growled out.

“Potter, you’re courting a pureblood now. That means pureblood courting rules.”

Harry paused, a dull horror dawning on him. “Pureblood courting rules say no kissing?”

“Kissing? Before marriage? Like some kind of whore?” Draco demanded immediately, putting on a perfectly crafted look of horror. “… I suppose you can kiss my hand, considering this is a special occasion.”

Harry paused, staring at Draco. He really just wanted to drag him over to the couch and start with the cuddling, but he was getting the distinct feeling that would lead to no more courting. He slowly brought the slim, pale hand up to his face, kissing it lightly before he turned it over and pressed his nose to the skin of his wrist. Draco immediately yanked his hand back, staring at Harry like a dog that had just dropped a dead bird at his feet. Pansy narrowed her eyes. “Potter, I don’t know what the hell that was, but as Draco’s chaperone I’m going to have to demand it never happens again.”

“Draco’s chaperone? Pansy, you’re the same age as him.” Hermione pointed out.

And suddenly, as Hermione and Pansy debated pureblood courting rituals and Draco’s honor, Harry understood perfectly. Looking past Draco’s disgusted look, there was a smug gleam in those pretty gray eyes. If he took a deep breath, he could smell that Draco was secretly thrilled. Ron had been wrong, this wasn’t the one time they weren’t trying to fight. This was just another fight between him and Malfoy. Draco may have dressed up this morning, and given him a bland smile, and told him he accepted the courting, but Harry knew this was far from over. Draco hadn’t actually made any decisions about him, he had just opened the door for Harry to prove himself. Draco wanted effort. Draco wanted to be chased.

He almost couldn’t control himself when Draco saw the wolfish smile and he smelled the thrill of arousal go down his spine.

“Chaperone. Courting. Got it. No problem.” Harry said, letting his eyes rake up and down Draco’s body. “ _Bring it on_.”


	3. Chapter 3

Harry pitched several first date ideas that Pansy shot down before they finally settled on a walk around Hogwarts grounds. She informed him that she would be within ten feet of them at all times, and they weren’t to touch unless it was Harry helping Draco across uneven ground.

He waited until she was a bit behind them before quietly speaking up. “I know what you’re doing, by the way.”

“Oh?” Draco responded pleasantly, that smug smirk back on his face. “Share with the class, _Harry_.”

“You’re just fucking with me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m very invested in this courtship. I think we can make a great team.”

“Draco, you’ve never been able to get the drop on me before. First year, I beat you for the house cup, eighth year, I’m going to beat you in this stupid courtship game.”

“You’re the one who has a thing for me, I really feel like I hold all the cards here.”

“What, you’ll selectively dole out chances to touch you? Like I’m not twice your size and used to fighting? Have you ever actually been in a physical fight?”

Draco gasped at that, spots of pink appearing on his cheeks as he pulled his cloak tighter. “You wouldn’t. You’re the hero.”

“I wouldn’t. I just said it to smell you.” At Draco’s small frown – curious at what exactly he meant, but not willing to ask, Harry smirked and dropped the bomb. “I can smell when you’re turned on.”

“How dare you?” Draco demanded immediately, flushing but making no move to go rushing back to Pansy, screaming about inappropriate behavior.

“I’m the one with the _thing_ for you, the can’t-be-away-from-you thing, but you have a thing where you want to marry me. You want me to want you, you want the social clout, you want to be the best. You have always wanted me to pick you, and now that I have you’re not going to throw it away just because you like to mess with me. I think we hold an equal amount of cards here, because you have a fucking thing for me, too.”

Draco gave him a narrow eyed look, and something inside Harry’s chest relaxed. He felt like he had won, even though his higher reasoning knew Draco wasn’t ever quiet without planning something.

“So then what?” He asked suddenly, tucking a platinum blonde strand of hair behind his ear, cheeks still pink from how well Harry could read him. “We’re just going to get married? Keep playing games with each other in the Black Townhouse – I cannot believe you have that, by the way.”

“Uh, no. We’re going to fall in love, then get married, I’ll buy you anything you want, a small portion of the wizarding world will be forever convinced you’re running game on me, including Pansy, but we won’t care because every night I’ll take you upstairs, throw you on the bed, and have my way with you.” Harry said it as if it were the obvious conclusion, ignoring how Draco went red and started tugging at his tie. He quit pretending not to notice when something caught his eye, leaning in and snatching his hand away, gripping it tightly and wrapping a hand around the back of Draco’s neck to pull him in closer. He heard Pansy shriek and start booking it for them, but he was preoccupied. “What the hell is this?”

“What?” Draco asked faintly, barely struggling before just giving up. “Get your hands off me, this is so inappropriate for courting-“

“Who gave you _hickies_ , Draco?”

Draco paused, raising an eyebrow. “Are you… jealous?”

“Who the hell are you making out with, but I have to put up with this stupid courting crap-“ Harry growled, stepping in closer and ignoring Parkinson as she just started trying to pull him off.

“It was you, idiot.”

“… At dinner?” At Draco’s amused nod, he released him. “Oh.”

“We’re good, Pans.” At Draco’s assurance, she muttered something about not touching and retreated back.

They started walking again, Harry glancing over his shoulder to make sure she was out of range before talking. “So, Dray and Pans, is it? Does Blaise have a cute nickname?”

“B, sometimes.” Draco admitted. “We don’t use it as much. Why, do you want a cute nickname?”

“No, all three of those nicknames are terrible. I’m just glad you’re not calling me Potty. Do you want one?”

“By no means.”

Harry smirked to himself. “Sweetheart? Babe? Love?”

“Don’t make me start calling you Potty again.”

Behind them, Pansy piped up with a shout. “I am not going in that forest, so neither are you!”

Harry glanced up at the trees as they approached. He kind of had wanted to take Draco into the forest, but he supposed that was his new compulsion to be in the woods.

“Harry, I’m not going in there.” Draco echoed. When Harry looked down, he saw fear visible on Draco’s face, and he automatically pulled him into his arms.

“We won’t.” He promised. “But do you remember when we had to go in together? First year?”

He felt Draco nod against his shoulder, still a little stiff in his embrace.

“Me too. I remember walking along with you, and you just looked so nervous, and you jumped at every little noise. I thought you were about to cry.”

“If this is about how I’m a coward, trust me, I’m aware-“

“It’s about from the time I was eleven, when you were around, I couldn’t think about being scared, because all I could think about was you. That was the first time in my life I felt strong.”

He felt strong now, too. Draco had relaxed against him and was clinging, and he had one arm wrapped around his back and was stroking his pale hair with the other. Draco smelled so good, and Harry got to sense in real time how Draco’s scent went sweet with happiness.

He continued on. “I never wanted you to personally start acting like a Gryffindor, Draco. I just wanted you to come running to _me_ when you were scared.”

Draco couldn’t have said how long they stood there, holding each other in front of the forest. He shut his eyes and held onto Harry, and felt a sudden rush of relief that no matter what happened, he wouldn’t end up stuck as the man of the house, where he got the final word and everyone turned to him for advice. He had clearly proven himself to be incapable of making the right decision, time and time again. He didn’t want that responsibility.

Eventually they separated, Harry wistfully glancing back at the forest. “Have you ever gone camping?”

Draco immediately burst out laughing, ruining the moment before Harry frowned at him. “Oh, you’re serious. No, I most certainly have never gone camping.”

“You say it like I asked you if you’ve ever eaten dog food. You’ve seriously never gone camping?”

“Of course not. It sounds terrible.”

“I think it’s fun.” He smirked. “Maybe that’s what we’ll do for our honeymoon. A weeklong camping trip in the forbidden forest.”

“Maybe I’ll write Blaise’s mum and ask her for advice on how to kill you and make it look like an accident.”

Harry laughed before pausing. “Where’s Pansy?”

“I signaled her to go back to the castle.”

“Why? I thought she was supposed to have eyes on you at all times to make sure I’m not defiling you.”

“Well,” Draco shrugged, starting the walk back briskly. “I thought maybe you were going to kiss me, so I told her to head back so she wouldn’t stop it.”

“What?” Harry gasped before hurrying to catch up. “We can still kiss! We can go back!”

“No, the moment’s passed.” Draco said nonchalantly, smirking at Harry’s glower. “I want to know something.”

“Am I going to get you back for that? Yes.”

“Whatever. No, earlier you asked me if I’d ever been in a physical fight. You mean not a wizard’s duel, yes? You mean… punching.”

“Yeah, I meant punching.”

“Well then yes. Granger punched me. So I’ve been in a fight.” Draco never thought he’d be using that particular incident to win a debate, but whatever.

“I think you have to return the blow for it to be considered a fight. Two way street.”

“Have you, then?”

“Of course.”

“What?” Draco stopped walking, staring at him. “When on earth would you have been fighting someone without your wand? Is that just what Gryffindors do for fun, beat on each other?”

“Uh, no. It was before Hogwarts, and over the summer.”

“Oh. You fought muggles. I thought you liked muggles?”

Harry knew full well there was going to be issues over this. Might as well bite the bullet. “It isn’t that I think every muggle is a darling, Draco. It’s just that being a wizard doesn’t make me better than them. Sometimes I’m nicer, and that makes me better than them. Sometimes they’re nice people. They’re exactly like wizards. Did you just assume every muggle you ever met was-“

“I’ve never met a muggle.” Draco said immediately, shrugging. Harry paused. In hindsight, that made sense. Wasn’t like the Malfoys went waltzing around Muggle London.

“Would you like to?”

“I don’t know what I’d talk about. I can’t tell them about magic, but everything in my life is magic. But I wouldn’t- do anything.” Desperate to change the subject, Draco batted his eyelashes up at Harry. “Why did you go around punching people, you brute?”

“They gave me too much shit. So you’d better watch out.”

“Ha _ha_. Really, why?”

“Well, I stayed with my aunt, uncle, and cousin during summers. My cousin hated me, he and I got into fights, kids around the neighborhood and I got into fights…” At Draco’s unimpressed look, he grinned. “We were hormonal teenage boys who hated each other, we just beat on each other.”

“You and I were hormonal teenage boys who hated each other, and we never really fought.”

“Throwing a punch isn’t exactly your style, Draco. You may not be into it, but I wanted to fight you.” At Draco’s betrayed look, he stepped closer with a grin. “At least, I wanted the part of the fight where I pinned you and watched you squirm.”

“You vile- I’m never sending Pansy away again!” Draco snapped, turning his head to hide the blush and stomping back toward the castle.

“You’d move a lot faster if you weren’t wearing your robes and your cloak over your clothes.” Harry had made the obvious choice to ditch them both and wear a jacket over his uniform pants and shirt instead. Draco evidently hadn’t seen it that way.

“Not all of us want to walk around practically naked.”

“That’s the funniest thing about purebloods to me. You all act like you’ve been caught in your underwear if you don’t have your robe on.”

“If I came down in just pants and a shirt, my mother would’ve killed me. If we had company, she probably would’ve killed them too, just to keep it quiet.”

“It literally doesn’t reveal any more skin.”

“It’s too form fitting.” Draco insisted.

“Oh my god, someone might be able to discern that you have two legs? Think they’re going to jack off to it? How did I not see this before?” He reached out and grabbed Draco’s hand, slowing them to a more normal walk. “What about parties? Do you still wear your robes?”

“Obviously at a party I would wear formal robes. You’ve seen me, at the yule ball.”

“No, not a ball, a normal party.”

“Ball, party, gala, whatever you call it.”

“Not a ball, with waltzes. A party. With drinking, and smoking, and no adults, and making out.”

“Right, of course. Because my father wouldn’t have murdered me _too bad_ if he ever caught me at anything approximating that.”

“Would you go to one?”

Draco stopped, frowning slightly up at him. “… Why do you ask?”

“Because I could put together a party. Some of us were talking about one for the eighth years.” The more Harry thought about it, the more he liked it. He had always liked parties, and having a potentially drunk Draco tucked under his arm just sounded better.

“And you’d want me to come. To a party. With your friends.”

“Yeah?”

“You want me talking to your friends?”

“Why are you all acting like I want to keep you chained to my bed? I know you know how to talk to people, Draco, I’ve seen you talk yourself out of a lot. You can be a real charmer when you want. I don’t know how I’d manage to marry you without my friends getting involved.”

They walked in silence for long enough that Harry was certain Draco would refuse. “Could Blaise and Pansy come?”

“Are they going to get in my way if I try to drag you off to a dark corner to snog?”

“Yes.”

“Of course they can come. Hold up.” Harry stopped as they arrived at the castle stairs, stepping next to them and glancing around before he started undoing his belt.

“What are you- oh my god!” Draco shrieked and covered his eyes. “Why is- put that back!”

“One second.”

“What are you- are you _peeing outside?”_

“I’m marking my territory. It’s a wolf thing.”

“You are so disgusting!” Draco took off up the stairs, still muttering to himself about _you are such an animal_ and _no manners whatsoever_.

“Hey!” Harry tucked himself back into his pants and caught up to him, smiling at a group of awestruck Hufflepuffs and following Draco up the stairs. “Want to see my room?”

“Why, so you can mark _me_ as your territory?”

“You’re going to have to get over peeing outdoors before our camping honeymoon, Draco.”

“We are not camping for our honeymoon.”

“I haven’t heard any better ideas from you.”

“Literally anything would be better than camping, but…” Draco glanced up at him quickly, checking if he was serious. “I always wanted to honeymoon in Paris.”

“I’ve never been to Paris.”

“You’ve never been to Paris?” Draco straight up stopped walking, pressing a hand to his chest. “Ever?”

“You know, I can smell that you’re not really surprised, you’re just rubbing it in. You’re the one who’s never been to a party, so let’s not get into who had the most deprived childhood.” Harry smirked when Draco’s face fell.

“This business with you smelling me is ruining my life.” Draco snapped, stomping up to the eighth year’s section. “I’m going to douse myself in cologne.”

“Want to see my room, for real?”

“…” Draco actually appeared to be considering it. “I shouldn’t.”

“I’ll keep it quiet. Not that anyone would actually care, by the way.”

“…” Gray eyes flitting side to side, Draco stepped closer. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

“I promise.”

Draco maintained eye contact for a moment before nodding, leaving Harry slightly breathless as he opened the door and welcomed the blonde into his room.

Draco’s first thought was that Harry’s room was nothing like his own. Where Draco’s room never had a quill out of place, Harry’s room was a wreck. There were pictures and posters taped up across the walls, Harry and his friends and quidditch players and taped up chocolate frog cards. The floor was scattered with quidditch supplies, robes, shoes, ties, candy, papers, anything that could have obviously been stored in a trunk.

Harry’s trunk was on its side, under a poster. His armoire was open, clothes spilling out. His bed hadn’t been made. Draco took it all in before turning to give Harry a look as he slipped off his cloak and laid it over Harry’s desk chair. “Wow.”

“Yeah, sorry about the mess. I know your room’s a lot cleaner.”

Draco froze, turning and locking eyes with Harry. “How do you know that?”

Harry was struck dumb, mouth opening. “I guessed.”

“You’re lying. You went in my room. Why did you- what did you do with my pillows- were you searching my room-“ Draco’s eyes narrowed, never once leaving Harry’s as he stepped closer. “You searched my room and _stole my pillows_?”

Harry reeled as Draco swiftly evacuated his mind, reaching out to grab him.

“Don’t touch me!”

“You’re a legilimens.” Harry growled, holding Draco still as he struggled. “Don’t do that again. I’m serious, never read my mind _ever_ again.”

“Let go of me. I’ll scream.”

As furious as Harry was, the sharp scent of Draco’s fear was penetrating through the haze of anger, and he let go of him. Draco backed away immediately, looking like the most pressing thing on his mind was how Harry was between him and the door.

Harry sighed and stepped away from the door. “Draco, just stay-“

Before he had finished his sentence, Draco tore out of the room like it was on fire. Harry groaned, sitting down and sniffing Draco’s cloak.

Fuck. Even that smelled like fear.

He dropped the cloak on the desk in disgust at the sharp smell and left the room, heading for Hermione’s room.

“Come in!”

He sighed as he walked in and saw her and Ron laying on the bed, glancing through the paper. He could’ve been cuddling right now too. “Draco’s a legilimens.”

She sat up in shock. “What? Really? Did he- use it on you?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, Harry.”

“That’s not on.” Ron sat up, crisscrossing his legs. “That’s pretty out of line, he agreed to date you, I don’t see why he went all-“

“He did it to find out how I got into his room.”

“Aw, I knew you shouldn’t have done that!”

“Quiet down, Ron.” Hermione waved him off, frowning. “Well, admittedly we did break into his room, which was a violation of his privacy. I didn’t think you’d _tell him_.”

“It just slipped out!”

“-and in response, he read your mind, which was a violation of your privacy. Did it hurt your…” She tapped her forehead.

“No, it didn’t feel like anything. I wouldn’t really have known if he didn’t announce it.”

“Well then, my point is you both misbehaved. I’m sure if you explain your… history with legilimens, he’ll-“

“Mione?” Ron spoke up. “Pretty sure Draco has the exact same history with legilimens.”

“If he gets how disturbing it is to have Voldemort poking around in your head, you’d think he’d have more of an issue using it.” Hermione pointed out.

“Maybe he doesn’t.” Harry said suddenly. “Snape was giving me occlumency lessons, yeah? Snape and Draco were close. Maybe he taught him.”

“Just give him some time to cool down and bring him some more flowers. Tell him you have a problem with it, but you get why he did it and you’re sorry you were in his room. Ask him not to do it again, promise you didn’t read his diary. Easy.” Ron scooted back over, making room. “For now, just hang out with us. Tell us about the walk.”

Harry immediately climbed in, settling down with his friends, his pack. “Well...”

* * *

Draco shot out of Harry’s room, immediately bypassing his room as ‘accessible to Harry’ and tore into Pansy’s room. She shrieked, dropping her book and grabbing her wand before she saw it was him and relaxed. “What’s the matter with you?”

He panted, glancing at the door and back at her. “I think Harry Potter’s going to be _very_ mad at me the next time he sees me.”

“Why’s that?”

“He admitted he broke into my room, then lied about it, so I- just, double checked.”

“Did you _tell him_ you double checked?”

A nod.

“Draco! Why would you ever tell a person you used legilimens on them?”

“I didn’t explicitly say it, I just started yelling! He stole my pillows, I wanted an explanation!”

“What ever happened to getting the information, pretending you didn’t, saving it for a rainy day? Like you’ve always done. This isn’t the first time someone has lied to your face and you’ve pretended you didn’t know.”

“Can you stop acting like I planned it?”

“When have you ever not planned?” Pansy stood up, crossing her arms over her robe and staring at him. “Draco, what the hell is going on, genuinely? I don’t see why you sent me back, I don’t see why you let him hug you, I don’t see why you got so emotional about him lying, for god’s sake, it’s Harry Potter-“ She cut herself off with a gasp, eyes going wide and then narrowing in understanding.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Okay.” She said simply, holding up her hands. “The good news is you could probably slap him across the face and he’d still have some weird urge to take care of you. So, just… let it blow over.” He stared at her for a moment, fidgeting, before she sat back down at the desk. “Want to help me with potions homework?”

Happy for the out, he leaned over and started reading the assignment.

* * *

Harry and Hermione had agreed – Draco got exponentially more snarky the more Slytherins he was near, so it was best to corner him alone. Unfortunately, he seemed to be deliberately avoiding Harry or settling in between Pansy and Blaise. Harry felt like he was in withdrawal. When Hermione caught him facedown in the common room couch, smelling the faint traces from when Draco had perched there hours before, she called an ultimatum – Harry would handle it, or she would.

Harry didn’t think Draco would appreciate Hermione’s clinical threats, so he settled into his usual modus operandi – stalking Draco Malfoy. And when the map showed Draco breaking away from his group to loop around to the greenhouses, Harry headed down there as well.

He bumped into Pansy and Blaise as he headed down, the two Slytherins giving him a look as he ran past them. Pansy watched Potter scramble after Draco, then sighed and looked at Blaise.

“I’m starting to suspect Draco genuinely has a thing for Harry Potter.”

“Mmm.” Blaise nodded. “… Yeah, you’re about four years behind.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm.”

“Are you sure-“

“Yes.”

Pansy nodded her understanding. “I missed that.”

Blaise nodded sympathetically, both of them watching Harry hover near the greenhouse entrance before they shrugged and continued upstairs.

Harry paused at the door, watching Draco work. The blonde was completely absorbed in harvesting ingredients, carefully checking the sheet of parchment in front of him before making any clippings, carefully putting them into little jars or bags, setting them in a small crate. When Draco settled his gloves and the parchment on top, Harry realized he was about to lose his chance and stepped forward, coming up behind him. “I’ll carry that for you.”

Draco just about jumped out of his skin with a gasp, whipping around and glaring at Harry. He pressed a hand to his heart. “What are you doing, skulking around here like that? You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“I wasn’t skulking.” He stepped forward, and Draco stepped back. “Draco… I wanted to apologize for grabbing you. I didn’t want to scare you.”

“I wasn’t scared.” He shot back immediately. “I always knew you were a menace.”

 “You were scared, I could smell it. And I’m sorry.” He hesitated, then stepped forward again. When Draco didn’t retreat, he slowly reached for his hands. “Can I see?”

“You’re not going to like it.” Draco warned, but allowed Harry to pull back his sleeves and see the finger-shaped bruises on his forearms. “I bruise incredibly easily.”

“You’re trying to make me feel better.”

“I’m just telling the truth. Unlike you did.”

“It’d make me feel better to kiss it.” Draco rolled his eyes, but shrugged and let Harry kiss his forearms.

“I was serious about the bruising easily. I could bruise from a squeeze. I have a note from a healer and everything.”

“You have a note from a healer that says you bruise easily?”

“No, genius, I have a note from a healer that says I have hemophilia.” Draco rolled his eyes, pulling his hands free.

“You have _what?”_

“It’s a genetic disease where-“

“I know what it is, Draco! You have that?” Harry could tell he was getting louder and closer, but he couldn’t restrain his horror at the situation.

“Why are you freaking out?” Draco was clearly bewildered, turning away before Harry grabbed his shoulders and pulled him closer.

“So- sixth year, when I-“

“Oh. So that’s what this is about.” Draco sounded almost amused when he said it, ignoring Harry’s growl. “You’re upset that even with that, I was fine. The Savior of the Wizarding World couldn’t even manage to take out one measly hemophiliac who literally can’t stop bleeding-”

“Are you _insane?”_ He demanded immediately. “I’m upset because I almost killed you!”

“Almost.”

“As in, I didn’t want to kill you at all, Draco. I’m upset it was as close as it was.”

“I have some bad news. That spell wouldn’t exactly have been safe whether or not I had hemophilia.”

“I didn’t know what the spell did.”

That made Draco stop, considering. “… Really?”

“Yes! Of course I didn’t, I- I thought you knew that, I thought Snape would’ve told you.”

“I refused to hear anything about it afterward, I wouldn’t let anyone talk to me about it.” Draco seemed to be looking at him in a whole new light.

“You thought I tried to kill you at age sixteen, and you still went out with me?”

“Yes? I thought that was just our thing.”

Harry stared at him in utter confusion for a moment before simply pulling him into a hug, wrapping his arms around Draco and taking a deep inhale.

Draco settled in his arms, sighing and shutting his eyes before he remembered he was pissed. “Wait, what do you want?” A pointy elbow jabbed Harry as Draco wiggled out of his embrace, stepping back.

“I’m sorry I went through your room and stole your pillows. I wanted to smell you. It wasn’t cool, but I wasn’t… peeping, you know. It wasn’t… anything. I wasn’t doing it to be weird, I just had to smell you or I was going to jump you again.”

“That’s inappropriate.”

“Well-“ He shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, that’s how it is.”

Draco was quiet for a moment before he spoke up. “It was impolite of me to tell you I used legilimens on you.”

“I don’t want you doing it again.”

“I don’t want you going in my room without permission, or stealing, or lying about it.”

“Okay.” Harry said immediately. “Then I won’t.”

“… I’ll try not to.”

“You’ll try?” He demanded, frowning.

“It isn’t like I’m waving my wand and doing the spell, Potter, I learned before I ever had a wand. Sometimes the line between looking at your face to see if you’re giving anything away and looking in your head can get… blurred. Particularly when you’re such an open book.”

Harry had heard similar things from Snape. But he figured Draco had been getting lessons after classes, and Draco was talking like he had been eight years old and wiggling into people’s minds. “Who taught you?”

“My mother.”

“Your mother is a legilimens?”

Draco frowned, narrowing his eyes and stepping closer to get in Harry’s face. “Why do you say it like _that?”_

Harry couldn’t help it. He started laughing. Draco looked to be getting more furious by the second. “It’s just-“

“My mother is a very accomplished witch.” He said hotly. “She is a natural occlumens, which by the way is the only reason you aren’t dead in the forest right now-“

“I know! I know.” Harry grinned at him. “It’s just that your mum had pretty much the same reaction when I questioned you in front of her.”

Draco paused, frowning slightly and settling down before he cracked a smile at the thought of his mother defending him. “Oh.”

“I think it’s cool that your mum’s a natural occlumens. She taught you?”

Draco paused, glancing around. “I wasn’t… actually supposed to tell anyone that.”

“You can tell me anything.”

“You broke into my room, Harry, I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.” Ignoring Harry’s crestfallen look, Draco picked up his box and deposited it in Harry’s arms with a smirk. “You can begin making it up to me by carrying this down to the potions room for me.”

“Cool. I can do that.” Harry accepted it, brightening immediately. “Want to make out in the potions closet after?”

“I do not.”

“Cool. Can I smell your hair as a consolation prize?”

“… I’ll think about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk why I randomly gave Draco hemophilia? It's never going to be an issue or any dramatic near death experience, it's just a random thing.
> 
> But the "Draco's mom is an occlumens/legilimens who taught him from a young age" is kinda a hc of mine, I think Narcissa must've had a lot of talent with occlumency to trick Voldemort, who's called "the most accomplished legilimens in history" or something of the sort.
> 
> & I think it'd be funny if Draco was going around Hogwarts checking out people's thoughts and using them to roast them.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, when Draco opened the door expecting Pansy, Hermione Granger was waiting for him.

And as rude as Draco could be, he was still raised as a pureblood, and purebloods don’t slam doors in faces. So Draco invited her in, offered her his desk chair, and kept an eye on her to make sure she didn’t go for her wand. He also left the door open, because he knew how to behave to protect both their honor. Truth be told, Draco still wasn’t a hundred percent sure how Harry’s friends felt about this whole situation. They had seemed supportive enough when Harry offered him flowers, but Granger wasn’t the type to be swayed by emotion.

“I’ll cut to the chase. You’re a legilimens?”

Well, looks like Potter blabbed. “Yes.” He responded coldly, already thinking about his revenge.

“You’re a very advanced one. Harry also had private lessons with Snape for occlumency, but he could never get it.”

Draco mentally halted the revenge plotting and settled on the bed. Harry hadn’t told about his mother. “I’m not surprised. I don’t think anyone who’s ever met Harry would think he could get it.”

“Why is that?”

“He’s too… connected to his emotions, unashamed of them, doesn’t mind people knowing his feelings. There’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just the opposite of occlumency.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Hermione spoke up. “It frustrates me that he won’t learn, particularly since he has such a problem with people doing it to him.”

“Mm.”

“I mean, does he want another Voldemort situation?”

“I know, right?” Draco said, nodding, even though he most certainly did not know. Another Voldemort situation? “It seems to be the obvious choice. If you don’t like legilimency, learn occlumency. But it isn’t that simple, some people just will never be good at it – particularly the later they start.”

Hermione nodded. “… I’ve been trying to learn it.”

“It can be hard to learn without a legilimens to practice on.”

“I agree. So will you?”

Draco blinked in shock. “You want me to-?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t mean to be impolite, but why would you ask me of all people to deliberately poke around your mind?”

“Speaking practically, you’re the only legilimens nearby who I have near-constant access to. Second of all, you’re going to get married to my best friend, so I assume you aren’t going to spread anything around.”

Yeah, whatever. Draco didn’t need to be a legilimens to know this was Granger extending the olive branch to him. She was making a deliberate point to show she trusted him.

He took a deep breath and stepped off the bed, kneeling in front of her. “Eye contact, please.”

Hermione nodded and looked down at him, her brown eyes fixed on his gray ones.

After a moment, he pushed in hard. He knew immediately what he was looking for – what Hermione had been thinking about when she talked about Harry’s resistance to legilimency. In a rush, her memories washed over him - Harry’s nightmares, him coming back from lessons with Snape, the fear that Voldemort was spying on them through Harry’s eyes at any moment, all culminating in Voldemort sending them a false image through Harry’s eyes, everyone jumping into action, and Harry being tricked and losing his godfather.

Draco immediately fled her mind, pulling back into his body and catching a moment of her brown eyes before she gasped and shut them harshly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it’d be- those memories.” Draco said softly. “Sit for a moment.” He stood up, swaying slightly as he fetched his water glass and held it out to her.

She took it slowly, sipping and nodding. “I guess I’m not very good at occlumency, then.”

“No, you are actually. It felt so abrupt and painful because you did put up doors, and I had to force my way in.” He explained. “Usually, ideally, you don’t know it’s happening.”

“So because I knew some, it hurt even more? That doesn’t sound very helpful.” She admitted, rubbing her forehead.

“Would you rather someone use legilimens on you without you knowing at all?” He asked, stepping back as she stood up. “You might want to take a mild pain potion. It’s very tough to learn.”

She sighed. “You saw-“

“I’m sorry. I suppose it was just… on our minds.”

After a moment, Hermione nodded and headed for the door. “Thanks for helping me practice.”

“Of course. But, Hermione-“ He waited until she turned to him. “Some things, you have to sacrifice to improve.”

“I…” She frowned at him slightly. “I don’t follow.”

“Advancing past this stage of occlumens isn’t rare because it’s hard, in and of itself. It’s because it will alter the rest of your life entirely. It isn’t like potions, or ancient runes, or arithmancy. To get _good_ at it, you have to change who you are, or you just have to be… like this.” Draco, on some level, knew he was upsetting her. Hermione Granger had gone through her whole life finding the key to save the day in a textbook, and she had always been able to improve with hard work, and she’d never been worse off for it.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying quit while you’re ahead.”

She stared at him coldly, giving him a nod before leaving the room. He followed her out, locking it pointedly and sweeping off to his first class.

Harry watched as he emerged from Advanced Potions two hours later, sleeved singed and engaged in a heated argument with an eighth year Ravenclaw over the merits of using Greek hemlock as opposed to plain old English – Draco was all for splurging a little to import the good stuff, while she was repeatedly insisting that it didn’t matter in the slightest.

“Gwen, how can you possibly justify slumming it? If just for the history-“

“Is your potion going to the historical society, or down a doxy’s throat? For god’s sake, why throw away your budget on-“

She jumped back and shrieked as Harry grabbed Draco, spinning him and pressing him against the wall. “Why is Hermione telling me you told her to stop studying occlumency?”

“I’ll catch up with you later, Gwen.” He sighed. She looked a little concerned to be leaving him alone with no witnesses, but when he rolled his eyes and waved her off she shrugged and headed upstairs. “Excuse me, Saint Potter? Like I wasn’t in the middle of a conversation?”

“ _Why is Hermione telling me_ -“

“I have no idea why Granger blabbed to you about a private conversation we had! Good to know that’s the kind of company you keep! Should I expect anything I tell you to make it back to her as well?”

“Yes.”

“Delightful. Get off me.”

“Why would you tell her not to learn how to block out legilimens, huh? Want an in-“

“Why would I bother going through her mind when she can’t stop talking about what she thinks for even five minutes?” Draco pushed at his chest. “Now get off me. I have an appointment with Pomfrey.”

Predictable as ever, Harry jerked back at the thought that Draco might be hurt, but stayed right behind him as Draco started climbing up the dungeon stairs to get to the hospital wing. “Why do you have an appointment?”

“Maybe if you were a trained healer, you’d have a reason to ask that question.”

“Why are you suddenly in such a bad mood? Last night you even let me have your robe to smell-“

“ _Shut up_.” Draco hissed as two Gryffindors turned with raised eyebrows when they heard Harry Potter talking about smelling Draco Malfoy.

Harry growled at him, which really only encouraged Draco to move faster, and he practically sprinted down the hall, throwing open the door to the hospital wing and going to take a seat on his usual bed.

Harry came up next to the bed, frowning at him. “I’m serious, why are you so pissy?”

“I’m having the worst day.”

“What happened?”

“What happened? Some brute threw me against the fucking wall for giving his best friend some excellent advice, and now he won’t stop following me around.”

Harry growled again, leaning in until Draco was forced back against the pillows. “I don’t know what your problem is, but when you’re ready for me to help you get the stick out of your ass, _baby_ , you know where my room is.”

Draco turned his head away primly, ignoring him until Harry snarled at him and stormed out of the hospital wing. “Try not to break into _my_ room on your way up there!” Draco shouted after him, sure Harry’s enhanced hearing would pick up on it, ignoring how Madame Pomfrey gave him a confused look as he downed his potions and let her check him over.

“You’re more bruised than usual this week.”

“I’m clumsier than usual this week.” Draco said immediately, not caring that it was one of his worst lies. He swallowed the last couple of potions and laid back, elevating his feet and waiting for her to confirm he wasn’t going to pass out and release him. He knew his pounding heart was worrying her, but he couldn’t control it.

He had never really been told much about the incident in the Department of Mysteries that got his father sent to Azkaban. He had known he got in trouble for it, and he had known that Harry Potter and his assorted friends had gotten involved, but he had never known that the Dark Lord had used legilimens so cruelly, had never known that legilimens was the reason Harry had been tricked into the battle that cost him so much.

If he had known, he would’ve realized that him offhandedly mentioning to his father that Harry Potter was _the easiest to use legilimency on, really, Father, it’s almost funny how open his mind is_ had led to more than just Lucius laughing at Harry’s expense.

Draco didn’t even mean anything by it, he had just been griping about how Harry had never had any idea what was going on with the challenges until the night before and yet still managed to scrape by, his father had asked him if he checked, and he had confirmed that he did, and that had been the end of the conversation.

As far as he had known.

But it was too much of a coincidence that Draco came home for the summer, told his father about Harry’s uniquely open mind, and scant weeks later the Dark Lord was prying into Harry’s mind and using it to trick him into putting all his loved ones at risk.

Draco covered his face, trying to control his hyperventilating. Harry was going to _kill him_. Literally strangle him to death. And he’d have it coming. Harry had been able to discuss everything else Draco did, point out that he had been forced under pain of death to do it, shift the blame to his father, whatever. But Draco hadn’t been forced to tell his father about that. He had just done it, under no threat, and Harry had lost the last real parental figure he had.

He was dead meat if Harry ever found out.

Harry could _never find out_.

Draco sat upright, pulling in his legs, taking a deep breath and settling down. He was the youngest, greatest occlumens ever. He was his mother’s son, he had fooled the Dark Lord himself, he could fool Harry Potter.

He took a deep breath, taking that memory, slamming it into its own room, and immediately closing it down, stowing it deep in his mind, and making a note to never ever think on it again.

And if something in him ached at the thought of never being honest with Harry, that was just the potion upsetting his stomach.

* * *

Draco wasn’t sure why he didn’t even tell Pansy. She wouldn’t have cared, she wouldn’t have thought worse of him, she would’ve helped. But he couldn’t get the words out. Every time he thought about it, he got upset, and he was forced to just hide it away again.

So he was standing in front of Harry’s door, filling his mind with thoughts other than that, and knocked. Harry answered immediately, eyes wild. He opened his mouth, but Draco cut him off. Better to get the first word in, set the tone for the conversation. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. My feelings were hurt.”

Harry nodded slowly, opening the door fully. “Want to come in and talk about it?”

“Oh, no thank you.”

“Come in and talk about it.”

Draco huffed but came in, sitting firmly down on Harry’s desk chair and pointedly avoiding looking at the bed, where his robe was tangled in with the sheets.

“I didn’t tell Granger not to study occlumency for fun, I did it for her own good.”

“I don’t see how not knowing how to keep you out of her head is for her own good-“

“I already explained this to her!” Draco snapped. “What, she doesn’t believe firsthand experience? If it isn’t printed in a book, it doesn’t count? She’s fine where she is!”

“She wasn’t good enough to keep you out.”

“I assure you, she doesn’t want to be.”

“What is the problem with occlumency? You’re an occlumens! So was Snape! Dumbledore! Your mum!”

“My aunt Bellatrix! Bartemius Crouch Junior! Voldemort himself! Grindelwald! All charming individuals, right? Bright shining beacons of truth and honor? Not _conniving liars?”_

Harry paused, frowning at him. “You aren’t a conniving liar.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I realize you’re having _canine issues_ right now, but please try to access the part of your brain that contains your memory of me, ages eleven to eighteen.”

“… Okay, maybe you’re a little bit-“

“Harry, I’m concerned your weird instincts have deluded you into thinking I’m someone I’m not.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying if it becomes even mildly convenient for me to lie, I’ll do it.” Draco declared. “I’m sure you were raised to be truthful at all times, but-“

“Draco, what the hell are you talking about? I lie plenty! To every teacher in this school! Many times over! I’ve been telling Madame Pomfrey I’m going to let more lycanthrope experts examine me for a week now. I told the Headmistress that I’m not stalking you and she doesn’t have to call your mother. I tell Ron’s mum her sweaters look cool, I tell his dad I think his inventions are neat, I tell Hermione I’ve been studying, I told you last night that I wasn’t going to do anything weird with your robes. But get this-“ Harry leaned in, giving him a smirk. “I lied. I’m going to jerk off with them.”

Draco gasped, face flushing hotly before he stormed out of the room dramatically. “Pansy!”

“Don’t you dare rat me out, Malfoy. I’m serious. I’ll eat you!” Harry hollered, chasing him out.

“Pansy!” Draco yelled again. She ripped open her door, only to see Harry to tackle Draco to the floor.

“Oh my god!” Pansy dropped down, immediately grabbing one of Harry’s legs and trying to pull him off her friend. “Is he _feral?”_

“No, I’m- we’re just playing! Let go of my leg, Parkinson!”

“Get off me, you dog!” Draco yelled, grabbing the couch and trying to pull himself out from underneath Harry. Harry snapped his teeth once, playfully, as Pansy let go of his leg.

Suddenly there was a crack of pain across the back of his skull. He gasped helplessly, letting Draco wiggle out from under him, curling up and clutching his head as he heard Draco and Pansy start yelling.

“Pans, what did you do?”

“He tried to bite you!”

“Did you hit him with-“

“I used the lamp! And he could be contagious!”

“Is he dead?” Draco asked, sounding hysterical. “Did you kill my suitor?”

“Dead people don’t _move,_ idiot!”

“What are you two- Harry!” That was Ron’s voice. “What did you two do to him?”

“Nothing!” The Slytherins cried together.

“Oh my god, shut up.” Harry groaned, slowly struggling to a seated position, clutching the back of his head. “I’m concussed. Parkinson, you should’ve been a fucking beater.”

“You did this?” Hermione demanded.

“Oh, like you wouldn’t have a similar reaction of a faux-werewolf tried to bite your best friend?” Pansy snapped immediately.

“She was just defending me!” Draco stepped in front of her, crossing his arms. “Blame Harry for jumping on me like some kind of animal! You can’t go around doing that and expect not to get hit!”

“Shut up, please, I’m begging you.” Harry opened his eyes, only to find that his vision was swimming.

“Harry, we’re taking you to the hospital wing.” Hermione said sternly, kneeling down to help him up.

“Draco, come.” Harry reached out as Ron got under his other arm.

“Me? No. Not after what you said.”

“Your best friend just knocked the scar out of my skull, I think the least you owe me is some handholding in the hospital wing.”

“Fine.” Draco snapped. “Pansy?”

“I’m not coming.”

“If I’m going, you’re going.”

And so they went. A ragtag group of five. Thankfully, seeing the clearly injured Harry got the students a wide berth, and all the other kids in the halls scooted to the side so they could get down easily. Ron and Hermione dumped him on a bed, clearly used to this particular maneuver. Harry dropped his forearm over his eyes and held out his other hand for Draco expectantly. Gritting his teeth, Draco grabbed his arm and squeezed as hard as he could.

Harry, being a shithead, didn’t even flinch.

“I know you’re milking it, you insufferable louse. Pansy Parkinson did not lay waste to the Savior of the Wizarding World with a _lamp_. Walk it off.”

“You’re going to feel bad when Madame Pomfrey comes out here and tells you I have a concussion.”

“Maybe she should tell us whether or not you’re contagious.” Pansy rolled her eyes.

“So, why exactly did you hit Harry with a lamp?” Hermione asked. “I’m trying to withhold judgement, but it seems suspicious.”

Pansy and Draco started shrieking immediately, sputtering about self defense and friendship and lycanthropy and ‘always knew the goody two shoes golden boy was a sick, twisted pervert’. Harry groaned and raised a hand. “Shut up! Pansy didn’t do anything out of line. I was fucking around with Draco, I was pinning him down, and Pansy got worried. It was reasonable. You two would’ve done it if Draco had been on top of me. From here on out, I’ll make a point not to do it where Pansy can see.”

“Why would you do it at all?” Draco demanded, digging his nails into Harry’s palm.

“I don’t know, it just sounded fun – don’t claw me, you little demon.”

“It was not fun.”

“You smelled like you were having fun.”

“Pansy, hit him again.”

Madame Pomfrey emerged from her office with Elliana the Mate Expert, and Harry swore under his breath. “Actually, you two can go. Bye Draco!”

“Draco?” Elliana gushed, leaning in. “Harry’s True Mate?”

Draco was busy staring at that woman like she had grown a second head, so Pansy leaned forward and shook her hand. “I see Draco’s reputation precedes him! Harry’s True Mate, that’s him!”

“Yes.” Draco said faintly, shaking her hand when Pansy pinched him. “How do you do.”

“Lovely to meet you!” Elliana shook his hand excitedly. “I’m the English expert on magical wolves, and I realized Harry had found his mate.”

“Well, Draco has to go, so-“ Harry sat up, letting Madame Pomfrey check over the back of his skull.

“Oh, actually, we can stay.” Pansy said immediately. “I actually have a lot of questions for you!”

“I’d be delighted to answer them!”

Harry locked eyes with Pansy and bared his teeth. She smirked back at him. “Well, first of all, Harry seems to be _inappropriately handsy_.”

“That makes sense.” Elliana smiled at them.

“Really? Because it’s really starting to freak us out.” Draco said, giving her a charming smile. “I mean, things are just so weird. Like, why does he want to smell me all the time?”

“Scent has become one of his greatest senses. Like how we implicitly trust our eyes above all other senses, Harry now utilizes his nose more, as he can smell more subtle changes before he can see them.”

“Mmmm. Why’s he stalking me?”

“I’m not stalking you!” Harry made a grab for the back of Draco’s robes, growling when he sashayed out of his reach and Pomfrey pulled him back to continue her examination.

“I mean, not that I’m not flattered, but really. He walks me from class to class, I go to the greenhouse and he pops up, he checks on me before bed and in the morning, it’s like he thinks there’s a price on my head.”

Elliana frowned. “That could be explained by his new protective instincts, combined with childhood trauma-“

“No, don’t worry, that’s just Harry.” Ron announced. “He’s been following you around since first year, it’s just that he’s quit being subtle about it.”

Everyone turned to look at him simultaneously.

“… What? We literally broke into the Slytherin common room to have a _conversation_ with Malfoy second year. You have never not gone above and beyond to know where he was at all times.”

Harry’s face was on fire, and he was pointedly staring at Ron. “I’m begging you, stop talking.”

“We never had a conversation in the Slytherin-“ Draco began.

“No, we were disguised as-“

“Hermione, I don’t want to kill you, but I will.” Harry warned her.

“Harry, when we first discussed your True Mate, you said you didn’t have feelings for him!” Elliana smiled at him. “I knew you were just being coy.”

Draco did not look impressed to hear about that.

“That’s right. Coy.”

Elliana finally left, and Madame Pomfrey declared that Harry would stay overnight. Draco turned to go, giving Harry one last icy look. Harry whimpered, and Pansy frowned for a moment before winking at Harry and subtly hitting Draco with a trip jinx. “Oh, no!” She cried as he went down with a spectacular clatter, crashing into chairs. “Draco! Wow. That looks like it really hurt your shoulder.”

Pomfrey clucked, helping him up and manhandling him back over to Harry. “You know the drill after a fall, Mr. Malfoy. Overnight observation to confirm you’re not going to develop a bleed.”

“Right.” He snapped, climbing into bed and glaring at Pansy. Pansy kissed him on the head, patted Harry’s shoulder, and sashayed out of the room. Ron and Hermione followed her out, and Harry turned to stare at Draco, who was sitting on the bed next to him and pointedly staring at the ceiling.

“Draco, I-“

“What were they talking about, a conversation in the Slytherin common room?”

He groaned. “Second year, we used Polyjuice Potion to turn into Crabbe and Goyle, followed you into the common room, and tried to figure out if you were the heir of Slytherin.”

Draco frowned at him silently. “Hm.”

“… I do have feelings for you, by the way.”

“The expert on wolf mates didn’t seem to think so.”

“Like I was going to discuss my bordering-on-criminal eight year long obsession with you while some middle aged witch was talking about romance? The woman was going on about love at first sight, what was I supposed to say? ‘Oh, not quite, but I did used to have fantasies about him tearfully renouncing his family’s dark affiliations and having to sleep in my bed because all of Slytherin hated him’? Or, how about, ‘yeah, not sure he has fond feelings for me, but I once had a wet dream where I kidnapped him to make him tell me Voldemort’s plan, but instead of interrogating him I fucked him’?”

Draco gasped, cheeks flushing darkly. “You- you’re just too much!”

Harry reached out, physically yanking the other hospital bed over to be pressed against his, and grabbing Draco when he tried to bail. “I wanted to save you, Draco. And be with you. This wasn’t _canine issues_.”

Draco deliberately looked away, cheeks bright. This was just a little too close to home. He felt like he was on the knife edge of believing him, almost willing to acknowledge that he had been dreaming about the same things, that every time he read one of his books he adjusted the physical descriptions of the characters to match him and Harry, almost willing to recognize that he selected books of light wizards saving dark ones.

“… Do you have feelings for me?” Harry asked slyly.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Like I let every stupid, disgustingly noble half-blood loser who asks me out court me?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

And even though Draco rolled his eyes, he didn’t make Harry push the beds apart until they went to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> That werewolves who mate during the full moon stuff/released into the forbidden forest stuff is evidently canon, but I'm making up what would happen if they bit someone.


End file.
